11.12.09
How To Tell?
This post is going to be even more personal that I usually am about my experiences. Those who have issues with bisexuality or sex outside of marriage should skip this post and come back tomorrow for more about dehisience.
First, for anyone that hasn’t read my Twitter or Facebook profile or doesn’t know me personally, I’m bisexual. That means that I am attracted to both men and women. Not ALL men and not ALL women. Just, well, just the ones I think are cute.
When I realize six years ago that I’m attracted to both genders, hubby and I sat down and we had a series of discussions. Several of those discussions covered dating. Thanks to a book called “The Bisexual’s Guide To The Universe” we laid down rules that we were both comfortable with so that I could actually experience what it would be like to be with another woman.
That was four years ago.
I’ve been on a few dates and even had a short term girlfriend. Nothing ever happened though.
Now I’ve met someone and I like her. If things keep progressing I can see where this might go.
But there’s a problem.
I have NO idea how to tell her about what happened. How do you tell someone that you’re…incomplete? I’m sure divorced and single cancer survivors have had to go through this. And I understand that it’s not just something you blurt out.
Nothing puts a damper on a fun evening like “Oh by the way my boobs rotted off, I had to get them reconstructed and in case I haven’t freaked you out enough yet, I have no nipples.”.
Yeah. THAT’S a real show stopper.
I don’t want to just give her my blog URL either. That’s a WHOLE lot of trauma right there as my regular readers know. And I REALLY like this woman. I don’t want to scare her away.
I’m thinking that if or when this turns romantic, that’s when I’ll tell her. But I have to tell her soon enough that it doesn’t seem like I’m keeping secrets but not so soon that I scare her off. She’s had to deal with enough medical crap herself lately as it is.
As for the actual telling part, I’ve learned that starting with the phrase “We need to talk.” or “There’s something I have to tell you”. usually sets someone on edge. I need to find an opener that will set her at ease. Maybe “There’s something I want to trust you with”. Perhaps “Can I confide in you?”.
I guess this is just something I’m going to have to work on. I’ve got about a week before I see her next, so I have a bit of time. Trust me, you all will probably hear about this again.
After all you already know that Ken enjoys the Twins and he doesn’t seem to care that I don’t have nipples yet. But that’s because my first set was so sensitive that he couldn’t really do anything with them anyway. This is definitely a different twist to this tale though.
11.11.09
The ER – Pt. 2
Let’s hope I can finish this part of the story tonight. I genuinely feel like I’m going to throw up. It’s amazing how visceral my reactions still are even after all this time.
By this point I was absolutely furious but I felt totally helpless to do anything. The news that I couldn’t be stitched back up was devastating. Couple that with the results of the culture and I was even more of a basket case than before. The culture discovered five different types of bacteria: three of which the tech never even heard of. So they put up a bag of the most badass antibiotics they had.
Unfortunately about 1/2 way through the bag I started getting EXTREMELY itchy. My throat started swelling a few minutes later and it became a bit difficult to breathe. Well Ken called the nurse and within a minute or so he had a syringe of something in the IV. He SLAMMED the plunger in and within moments I felt like I was going to pass out.
I got tunnel vision and then the tunnel started narrowing. My body felt very heavy and I felt like I was being pushed down. I told the nurse that I thought I was going to pass out. His reply was “Isn’t it a good thing you’re in the hospital then?”.
So…yeah. I was allergic to the first antibiotic. So they put up something else really badass and I was off again. This one made me a little itchy too so the nurse injected a little syringe of something else. This time much more slowly. In a matter of moments I was doing just fine and made it through the entire bag.
After a bag and a half of serious antibiotics, they also made an appointment for me with an infection specialist. Then one of the nurses packed my chest and they sent me home.
11.01.09
Surgery #2
As my regular readers know I developed necrosis two weeks after the October 2nd breast augmentation and lift surgery in 2007. After several weeks of Hell I was scheduled for a second surgery on November 2. This surgery was for the purposes of removing the implants and the remaining necrotic tissue. We showed up in the afternoon at the surgical center – which we had to pay the fee for – I was prepped and before I knew it, part two of my nightmare had begun.
When I was able I looked at what had been done. It seemed, in retrospect, Frankenstinian. The line of vertical sutures looked like someone had whip stitched the skin together. I also found out that, on the left side, there had been a half inch spot left open.
I also found out that over 300 ccs of serous fluid had built up in each pocket. The implants were both intact. That explained the pressure and the bubble under my flesh. Fortunately this time the HiQ put in what passed for really crappy drains. He had inserted open-ended surgical tubing. The outer ends were covered in gauze to absorb the leaking serous fluid that my body produced. Compared to the closed-system drains I had after my reconstruction, these things were positively primitive.
I was also an A cup now down from a DD cup and before that a C cup. This wasn’t nesecarilly a bad thing. I finally had the ski slope breast shape I had been after from the beginning. By ski slope I mean the breasts that are heavy and rounded on the bottom and on the top the breast gently slopes down to be capped by a pert, rosy nipple.
I was just missing the nipple.
The HiQ assured me that after i had healed, we could do reconstruction. At this point I was already starting to have my doubts. But I’ll talk more about that later.
For those of you joining me from NaNoBloMo and reading my blog for the first time, please go read the first post for more information about what BoobCast is all about.
10.31.09
Zombie
While I was doing the wet to dry bandages before the debridment, I frequently felt like I was a zombie. No, I didn’t want to eat brains, though I DID want to severely damage the HiQ.
***WARNING! GRAPHIC CONTENT AHEAD***
No what I mean is that when I would peel off the wet to dry dressing and pull away bits of dead flesh, I couldn’t help but feel like I was, at least in part, an undead zombie. Here I was dropping bits of flesh. And that’s what zombies do…walk around, eat people and drop bits of their body.
Instead of eating people, I felt like this situation was eating me alive. And not just in the literal sense. I began losing myself to this situation. I WAS a bouncy, vibrant, spur-of-the-moment type of person before I became Zombie Maria.
It has only been in the last month or two that I’ve come back to myself. I’m not there yet. I still shamble a bit, though there are no brain cravings. And unfortunately I still haven’t gottten past the point of wishing the HiQ ill. I really couldn’t actually do anything myself. I’m not that kind of person. But you can damn betcha that I wouldn’t be feeling bad if he were to accidentally get his hands crushed.
10.24.09
Debridement
It sounds scary. I was terrified when the HIQ said that at the next appointment he was going to “remove the dead tissue”. I anticipated pain. I even had a panic attack. As if I wasn’t enough of a basket case as it was. I didn’t even get an explanation as to how it would be done.
By this time I was crying at least once a day. It had finally sunken in that things were really bad. I had lost both nipples and areolae. The tissue was completely dead. The tissue itself was blackened and rubbery. In some places it crackled when I pushed down on it. So it had to be removed.
Dead tissue is a breeding ground for infection and if it wasn’t removed, it would have caused infection that would have gone systemic and eventually killed me. So debriding, even though it sounds terrifying, is actually a good thing.
When we came back for the next appointment, the HiQ STILL didn’t explain exactly what would be going on. Thankfully his nurse did. She explained that this wouldn’t hurt because the tissue he would be removing was dead so the nerve endings were dead too. Because the nerves were dead, there wouldn’t be any sensation except for a pulling sensation.
I sat down and kept my eyes closed the entire time. I do know that he cut the tissue off with surgical scissors because I saw the instruments before the procedure. All I felt was pressure and tugging. No pain aside from the emotional grieving of having lost an intimate part of myself. I grieved for the loss the same way an amputee or breast cancer survivor would.
It still freaks me out some that he was cutting tissue off my body. It sounds like something out of a horror movie, doesn’t it? Just the concept was enough to freak me out. Yet through all of this I explained calmly and in clinical terms to Hubby what was going to happen. He was, again, not allowed in. I refused to expose him to it and I was determined that I would do my best to maintain a facade of normalcy.
I failed about half the time by this point. But I tried, by damn. I tried.
The most important thing to take away from this post is that if you have to endure debridment, it is NOT painful. It sounds scary but what’s scarier is what will happen if you do NOT have it done. So have it done and do something really nice for yourself afterward.
10.13.09
Nipples Revisited
This weekend Ken and I drove down to Disney’s Vero Beach Resort. They have this great little second story restaurant that overlooks the ocean. We like to go out there, watch the ocean, enjoy the breeze off the water and get a little something to nibble on.
Saturday afternoon as we were getting ready to leave a couple came up from the water and sat down. She must have been cold because her nipples were fully extended through her swimsuit.
Up until that moment I was completely satisfied with the reconstructed breasts I have. Please understand that I love my Twins. The square-ish corners have evened out nicely. They’ve got a really nice rounded look to them now. They’re also finally soft and pliable while still being somewhat firm. Even without all those changes I would still be happy beyond words to have them.
I was really startled to realize that a part of me still doesn’t feel complete. I’m definitely not mentally ready to have another surgery. Even a minor one that only involves topical tissues. If I WAS ready we can’t afford it for a while yet. The nipple reconstruction will end up being around $9,000. About $7K for the surgery and the rest is the fee for the outpatient surgical facility.
Dr. Elliott always said that I would know when I was ready to have the first surgery. He said (paraphrased) that there would come a point where the feelings I had about the mangled wreckage that once was my chest would outweigh the fears I had and I would know when I was ready.
It is the same with nipple reconstruction. I know I am not ready for another surgery yet, financial situation aside. Having that moment of realization that I miss having nipples, however, is the first step in that direction.
10.09.09
Persistent Situational Depression
April 16th was a very good day. Aside from the morphine I was fortunate enough to get my breasts back. Not the originals, of course. These are the new and improved version. In JumboVision.
Yet it has taken me until today to see even more than a glimpse of my old self. I’ve been going through the motions of living distracting myself with new projects (http://www.fledgelingskeptic.wordpress.com) and just getting through the day-to-day aspects of living.
This afternoon I saw, for just a little while, that adventurous me. This is the part of me that takes unrestrained joy in just throwing a handful of clothes in a bag, getting in the car and driving just to see where we end up. If I had my way I wouldn’t be writing this entry right now. I’d be packing and getting ready to leave for who knows where.
Sadly, I don’t get to have my way. So that’s a bit depressing. This is the first time in years that I’ve seen that side of myself and it has been denied. Hubby would rather make plans for the weekend and stick with those.
While I’m depressed that I’m not going to be able to express that long-buried part of myself, I am so very happy to see that it still exists. I really thought it had long since died off. No more spontaneity. Ever.
I think that I had just gone through so much for so long that I got stuck in a situation-based depressive state. Now, almost six months after reconstruction, I’m finally returning to my old self.
I think it’s probably going to take a little while longer. I still have quite a bit of emotional recovering to do. I’m looking forward to the time that I don’t get sad during the first few weeks of October. I know that time will come. I just have to get to that point.
As people keep telling me, healing takes time. It’s not just the physical body that needs to recover. It’s everything else; the mental and emotional as well. It’s just a matter of time.
10.08.09
Nope. Still Not Ready.
October 2nd was my two year anniversary. I keep trying to write posts about the first two weeks. Every time I get to the point that I start talking about the pressure, I look back on things I wrote back then and I start to tear up. I still don’t know exactly how I muscled my way through the ordeal. I guess I’m just tougher than I look, eh?
I also spent a good deal of time trying to block out and forget the things that happened. I didn’t keep written records and I wish i would have taken photos in the first two weeks. But I didn’t. Even Hubby’s memory is pretty sketchy.
Neither of us can remember if the following incident is in the second or third week after the initial surgery. It DID happen some time within the first three weeks though.
One night I felt a great deal of pressure in my chest, as though there was a very heavy someone standing on a board across my chest. Hubby called the HiQ’s answering service because I was having problems breathing. The only thing that seemed to relieve the pressure was to take off the surgical bra and lay on my back. Even then that only worked for a little while.
Hubby had to call the answering service TWICE before the HiQ called back. When the HiQ called, Hubby explained the problem. I was promptly told NOT to lie down and to put the surgical bra back on. It was also suggested that Hubby get me a Valium and that nothing was wrong and I was just having an anxiety attack.
And that’s enough for now.
09.29.09
The Story Continues
I’ve tried to block out most of the first two weeks out of the first surgery. Unfortunately sticking my fingers in my ears and yelling “LALALALALALALA” doesn’t work so well when trying to recall what actually happened nearly two years ago.
The HiQ had us driving over every couple days to watch the progress or decline of my breast tissue. First he gave me a cream that was supposed to increase circulation. It was SO strong that I was only supposed to use a certain number of times per day. The one or two times I used it more than the directions said to resulted in monster headaches. The cream didn’t work. If any of my readers know what this stuff is, please leave a comment. I can’t seem to find information on it.
When the cream didn’t work, he tried something experimental. He sewed patches of cadaver skin over the worst areas but I STILL don’t understand how that was supposed to help.. I’m guessing that it’s like skin grafting in burn patients Those patches were supposed to act like a bandage to encourage natural tissue healing. I’d like to add that he didn’t even numb the area.
He even told me a few times that this was a very expensive procedure. Because I wasn’t numbed when he sewed the cadaver skin on skin that wasn’t nerve damaged, I screamed. I was promptly told “Don’t scream. You’ll scare the people in the waiting room” FUCK the people in the waiting room!! What the HELL did he expect?? My breasts were rotting off, he wouldn’t explain anything and he was sewing CORPSE SKIN on me. Of COURSE I was going to scream. Sometimes educated people are total idiots.
He gave the skin a few more days and of course that didn’t work either. What was really gross and disgusting…yes aside from corpse skin sewn on me…is that it turned gooey by the time it was removed.
Over this period I asked a few times why this was happening. He said “I don’t know.”. Once he even said he had never seen anything like it in 15 years. My bullshit meter pegged on that one. 15 years and he had never once seen necrosis?? His diplomas said he went to a reputable medical school so I really have to call bullshit.
Here’s a giant clue-by-four to any medical people reading this. When a patient is going through something this difficult it’s NOT okay to say, time after time, “I don’t know”. It IS okay to say, “I don’t know but I’ll find out”.
Thanks to this entry, I feel better about what I’ve been through. I will be posting regularly again. Tomorrow I’ll talk more about the first two weeks after surgery and the Valium comment.
08.15.09
The Surgery
I took all the vitamins, antibiotics, etc people at the HIQ’s office (Hack in Question) told me to take in the order I was supposed to take it. We made reservations for a hotel to stay in for a few days so that I wouldn’t have to ride back and forth to Melbourne from Orlando right after surgery.
In the intervening two weeks I have to admit to having had some doubts. I considered canceling the surgery on one occasion only to find out that we still would have owed all the money anyway PLUS a cancellation fee.
The big reason I was having so many doubts, I think, was that my Mom completely freaked out when I told her that I was getting a boob job. She reverted to “lecture” mode and preached at me about her really bad experiences. What I find odd now is that she didn’t give me ANY details at all about what had happened, presuming that I just knew or remembered.
I didn’t.
I was scheduled for 2pm on October 2nd 2007. HiQ asked me be at the Bougainvillea Clinique in Winter Park two hours before surgery. There was paperwork to fill out once I got there. Of course I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since midnight because of the possibility of aspirating.
We got there early and the nice nurses in the office gave me the paperwork I still had to fill out. It was the standard pre-surgical paperwork: allergies, etc. So I got that done and began the long wait. I tried distracting myself with a magazine but I was still really nervous. Finally when I thought I was going to pop, a nurse called me back.
There were probably about 10 to 15 bays separated by curtains. Each one contained a wheeled gurney and monitoring equipment. I was given a bag for my street clothes and in exchange, I was given a hospital gown that I was told to leave open in front. I was also given a pair of surgical hose to put on. They help to prevent blood clots in the leg from what I’ve been told by both the staff there ad Dr. Elliott’s people.
Then the HiQ came to see me. He made a bunch of measurements and pen marks all over my chest. I asked if I could make a change in implant size to something smaller. He replied “Well you’d better not change your mind because I only brought the one set of implants”.
After the HiQ was done, the nurse came in, popped an IV in my arm and took my vitals. Of course my blood pressure was running a little high because of nerves but that was to be expected. Then she placed these odd sleeves on my legs over the hose. I’ll explain those in a few minutes.
After all that we waited some more. Ken kept my mind occupied so I wouldn’t freak out while we waited MUCH longer than we expected. We were told that the previous surgery was taking more time than expected. Finally the nurses came to wheel me in to surgery at about 3:30. I kissed Ken and told him I would see him soon.
Once in surgery the leg sleeves were hooked up to a machine that rhythmically pumped air into them. Their job was to keep blood flowing well in my legs. The compressions also reduced the possibility of developing blood clots. I was given an injection through the IV and within a matter of moments, I was out like the proverbial light.
